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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23685694">No coffee, no cigarettes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Homestuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Breeding, Established Relationship, M/M, Morning Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Trans Dave Strider, Trans Male Character, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, feminine terms for genitals, op is trans</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:48:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,572</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23685694</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This is as sappy and loving as it gets for them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dave's Bro | Beta Dirk Strider/Dave Strider</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>No coffee, no cigarettes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>CW: stridercest, feminine terms for DFAB characters genitalia<br/>im tempted to write a second part, except more tender probably</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Morning sun casts a yellow film over the dingy combination-living-room-dining-room-kitchen, pouring in through half-wrecked blinds onto the grey carpet. You’re lying on that trusty old and creaky fold-out couch, the kind that characters in movies complain about being forced to sleep on, the kind that if you run your hand along it, you can feel every spring. Behind you, Bro’s larger body stirs, languidly letting an arm fall over your chest so you’re halfheartedly spooning. You’re not sure if this is what wakes you, or the sound of him groaning lightly in his sleep, or the bright sunlight. Your eyes sting when you open them, and everything is blurry under that heavy veil of tired, so you rub at one of your eyes with your hand before shifting around to crack your neck. Bro stirs again, but then returns to his limp state of comatose rest. He sleeps like a dead man.</p><p>You reach an arm out to the coffee table in front of you and blindly feel around for the remote, accidentally knocking your sunglasses to the floor as you do. The pathetic sound of plastic hitting the carpet would normally frustrate you, but you’re not awake enough yet to feel bad for yourself. Whatever. Your shoulder muscles ache either from over-exertion or from sleeping in the same position with only paper-thin fabric and some sponge separating you from an infernal pit of metal and springs. You turn on the TV, put on the morning cartoons. The reception is shit, the colors are muted and a horizontal line of nothing runs down the screen every few seconds, but you just need the background noise and something to look at.</p><p>The sound of old Tom and Jerry reruns muffled by white noise seems to be enough to make Bro shift around again, and this time you can feel him wake up, because the arm around your chest becomes firmer and you feel his morning wood casually press itself against your ass. You feel him give a soft kiss to the top of your head, a gesture too tender for you to ever bring up in conversation. Not like you’d have to, this language you formed between the two of you is built on small acts like that. He props himself up on his other arm, the one not currently holding you.</p><p>“Morning,” his voice is low and heavy with sleep, and you resist the urge to shuffle around to get a good look at him, because the feel of him pressed against the back of you is just as comforting as looking at his face would be, and because kissing with morning breath isn’t your favorite thing.</p><p>“Morning,” you respond, and it’s almost a whisper. He just holds you there for a moment.</p><p>The hand in front of you moves to cup your tit halfheartedly, and you let out a gentle sigh. You’re in one of his white shirts, and the grit of the fabric as he lightly pinches your nipple is enough to coax out a small gasp. You move your hips back against his in agreement as he grinds his hard-on against your ass, and you reach behind yourself to give it a gentle squeeze through his briefs. Now it’s his turn to sigh, voice so deep it resonates through you. You fumble with his waistband clumsily, not able to do much with one hand behind your back, so he helps you out, pulls his hard cock out and lets your fingertips ghost over it for a second before giving himself a few lazy strokes.</p><p>He moves the hand that was groping you and shoves it down the back of your underwear instead, feeling between your legs, feeling how wet you are, before pushing two thick fingers into your cunt. The sudden intrusion makes you push your hips back against him, pushing his fingers deeper into you, fucking yourself on them as you let out the softest moan.</p><p>“Good boy,” Bro says, and the praise just makes you wetter. He adds a third finger, fucking you with them slowly, the background noise of the TV muffling some of your gentle noises. You lie there like that for a couple of minutes, him slowly fingering you open, before he pulls his fingers out. Then you feel him shift around, then feel his bare cock against your cunt. He pushes in slowly, feeds it to you, and it takes all your self-control to not just slam yourself back against it. Instead, you lie there, as still as you can, and take it. Once he’s bottomed out inside of you, once you feel his head brush up against your cervix, the sensation making you shiver, he reaches that arm back out again, goes back to playing with your tits as he slowly moves in and out of you, just a couple of inches at a time.</p><p>Every time he drives it into you a bit harder, cores you with his cock, and you feel him reach the end of you, you let out an embarrassing little whine that only seems to make him want to do it again. You feel like he’s so deep inside you that he might as well be in your ribcage. It’s medically impossible, but your pussy clenches around him at the thought anyway, and you find yourself getting close already, just from feeling his cock burrow into you, his hand on your tits and his low voice in your ear going ‘that’s it, good boy’. He knows exactly what to do to get you to come undone, knows how to wind you up and split you open over and over again. The rhythm is so slow that you can feel every inch moving in and out of you, and you hate slow sex, but it makes you so fucking sensitive.</p><p>His hand moves down to touch your abdomen, and you wonder if he can feel himself pushing into you, rearranging your body to accommodate the heft of him. He holds you there.</p><p>“Gonna cum inside you,” he says, “put a baby in you.”</p><p>You can’t have kids, you both know this, but it is fun to indulge in his weird fantasy. Even if you’re not into it yourself, the way his cock twitches when you tell him to breed you is enough to make you reconsider. And the thought seems to invigorate him, make him drive into you just a bit deeper, hitting your cervix every time he pushes in. You can only moan lightly, the pleasure-pain of it driving you to whimper out little ‘ah’s.</p><p>You want to reach down and touch your clit but you’re almost curious if you can make yourself cum just from feeling him inside you. You decide you definitely can once you feel that hand sneak its way up your shirt (<em>his</em> shirt) and start to pinch and tug at your nipple. He knows how sensitive your chest is, knows the fastest way to get you to finish is to be a bit rough with that part of you. His calloused fingers grope at you, squeezing and pulling, making your moans louder and more erratic. His breathing is quick behind you as well, heavy and rushed, like he’s close too. You start to cum when you feel him shove his cock particularly deep into you, and you shut your eyes tight and whine gently, fucking yourself on him as you ride your orgasm out.</p><p>This seems to bring him even closer, and he quickly grabs you and easily maneuvers your pliant body onto your stomach before fucking into you harder and faster than before, the overstimulation making you shiver. He holds you down, practically pushes you into the mattress as he groans and shoves himself as deep as he can go, and you whine under him as he cums inside you, slamming himself into you a few times before slowing back down again. Then, his weight on you lets up and he gives a few more gentle thrusts before slowly pulling out. You clench around him as he does, and if you weren’t all fucked out, you’d probably be ready for another round. Instead, you just feel the emptiness of where he was, and then a couple of fingers start to push gently inside you, almost massaging, as his cum starts to leak out from where he fucked you open, then down your thighs and onto the bedsheets.</p><p>He sits up. You can tell from the way the weight shifts, feeling too boneless to move and look behind you. Then you feel a tissue wiping his spunk off your thighs, off the sheets, and then one wipes gently at your crotch for good measure. You hum in appreciation, and then he lies back down next to you and moves you around so you’re half lying on him, arm draped over his chest. He kisses the top of your head again, strokes your hair gently and holds you there. You feel the slam of his heartbeat start to slow down, and you feel yours do the same as you let out a deep sigh. You’re both sticky with sweat, and you wonder if you can coax him into washing your hair in the shower later.</p><p>“You want pizza for lunch?” he asks you. The ‘again’ is implied. The ‘let’s stay in bed all day and eat takeout’ is implied.</p><p>“Pizza’s good,” you respond.</p>
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